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Taking the Census 
in Bingville 



Price, 25 Cents 




«»Plfi»IOMT, 1«««, BY WALTSR H. BAK«H * 






THE AMAZONS ^^^^ ^ Three Acts. Seven males, ive xemaieSe 
^^ Costumes, modern ; scenery, not difScult- Plays 

a full eventngo 

THP rARIWFT MINICTPD Farce in Four Acts. Ten nsaies. nine 
IflC l/AOinCI fflinOlCI^ ^^^^^^^ costumes, modem society ,- 

scenes y, three interiors. Plays a full evening. 

DANDY DICK Farce in Three Acts. Seven males, four iemates. 
Costumes^ modem ; scenery, two interiorSo "Plays 
two hours and a half. 

THE OAY LORD OCEX ^^^'^^^y ^ ^^^ ^^^^^ ^°^^ males ten 
" females. Costumes, modern ; sce»ory. 

two interiors and an exterior. Plays a full evening. 

Hl^ HAITW IN ADDPfi Comedy in Four Acts. Nine males, fonf 
lU J UVUOC in UnUCn females. Costumes, modern ; scenery^ 
three interiors. Plays a full evening, 

THE HORRY HORSE ^^^^^y ^ Three Acts Ten males, five 
females. Costumes, modern; scenery easy. 
Plays two hours and a halt 

IRIS I^ii^*™^* ^ Fi''^© -^cts. Seven males, seven females. CostumeSt 
modem ; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. 

LADY' BODNTItVL ^^^ ^ ^^^ '^^^^^ Eight males, seven fe- 
males. Costumes, modern ; scenery, four in- 
teriors, not easy, Plays a full evening. 

LETTY ^^^^^ *^ Four Acts and an Epilogue. Ten males, five fe- 
males. Costumes, modem ; scenery complicated. Plays a 
fiill evening' 



Sent prepaid on receipt of price by 

l^alter 1$. 'Bafeer & Company 

NOo 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts 



Taking the Census in 
Bingville 

An Entertainment in One Act 



By 
JESSIE A. KELLEY 

Author of ^*- Scenes in a Restaurant^'' ^^Our Church 

Fair,'' ''The Village Post-Office," ''Miss 

Prim's Kindergarten," etc. 



BOSTON 

WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 

1911 



Taking the Census in Bingville 



CHARACTERS 



Census Taker. 

Rosy Grady, an Irish maid. 

Patrick M alone, a policeman ivho didn^t want to be ex- 
amined. 

Bill Watt, not so bright but still gets ahead of thejn all. 

Mr. Harder, chauffeur. 

Mr. Knott, aeronaut. 

Mr. Stone, farmer who has rheumatiz. 

Mrs. Jones, a much jnarried woman. 

Mr. Saloon, a barber who is '* Ilejiglish.^* 

Dr. Duncan. 

Mrs. Tibbets, who tries to be young. 

Mr. Single, aii editor. 

Mr. Jepson, a grocer-postmaster. 

Mrs. Sampson, 7vho has a large family. 

Mr. More, an undertaker. 

Mrs. Murphy, who is proud of her name. 

Miss Hartley, a teacJier. 

Mr. Sharp, a lawyer ivho is looking for clients. 

Tony, a fruit dealer. 

Mr. Ellwood, a minister. 

Mrs. Stone, a farmer's wife who is afraid she has hook- 
wor7n. 

Susie Gibbs, who is love sick. 




Copyright, 1911, by Wattttu tj -d...— «r Co. 
TMP96-C06472 



STAGE SETTING 

Stage maybe arranged to represent a hall. If not conve- 
nient to have curtain have the players come in in groups with 
usual salutations, the moderator calling the meeting to order 
when all are assembled. Departure may be made same as 
entrance. If a curtain is used have the players seated when 
it rises and the moderator calls meeting to order at once. 
Curtain falls as census taker rushes out. 



COSTUMES 

Most of the costumes may be ordinary modern costumes but 
where the parts admit, some grotesque costuming always adds 
to the effect. 



NOTES 

The census taker may add much to the merriment by his 
impatience, manifested in various ways as running fingers 
through hair, pacing floor while stories are being told, etc., etc. 
Bill Watt may also be much in evidence doing any droll things 
— chewing gum, offering it to others, taking out looking glass 
and fixing hair, spinning top, etc. Be very careful, however, 
that in doing these things, no such disturbance is made that 
the audience cannot hear what is being said. Census taker 
should be careful not to have back to the audience at any 
time. All should come forward and stand while being ques- 
tioned. Speak slowly and distinctly. Make the jokes local in 
every possible case. Practice story-telling until it can be done 
perfectly, bringing out the point plainly and acting out the 
part. Laugh heartily at the jokes. Songs and speeches may 
be easily inserted if desired. 

" My Pome too U " is taken from '' Life." " Love " and 
** A Deal in Bananas " are also taken from papers. 

3 



Taking the Census in Bingville 



Mr<. Single {in a very oratorical manner'). Fellow citi- 
zens, we have met here to- night to consider the munificent offer 
of that great and good man, Andrew Carnegie, who out of the 
abundant generosity of his heart wishes to furnish us the where- 
withal to build a library in this town. 

Mr. More. Huh ! Guess he could furnish it better out of 
his pocketbook than out of his heart. 

Mr. Single {lookiiig at Mr. M. scornfully). If our brother 
has anything to say worth saying will he kindly address the 
chair ? If not, will he remain silent ? I am the chairman of 
this meeting {pompously')^ and wish it run properly. 

Mr. Ellwood. Mr. Chairman 

Mr. Single {very suavely). Mr. Ellwood? 

Mr. E. I understand that this man does not want to die 
rich, perhaps remembering that it is easier for a camel to go 
through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter 
heaven, so I think it is our duty to help him dispose of a little 
of his surplus wealth. I move that our secretary be instructed 
to notify him to that effect. 

Mr. Harder. Just tell him while you're writing that if he 
needs any more help in getting rid of it that I should be very 
willing to accommodate him to the extent of half a million or 
so. 

Mr. Stone. Wall, now, I tell yew, when I git rich, there's 
one thing I'm a-goin' to hev. 

Miss Hartley. What's that, Mr. Stone ? 

Mr. Stone {going through motions). A pair of galluses for 
my other pants. Dashed if I ain't tired of everlastingly shiftin' 
galluses from one pair of trousers to tother. 

(Census Taker rushes in.) 

Census Taker. I'm glad I've found where the folks of this 
forsaken town are. I've pounded at every door until my 
knuckles are sore and couldn't raise a soul. 



6 TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 

Dr. Duncan. They say opportunity knocks once at every 
man's door. This would be a poor time for her to knock 
around here, wouldn't it? 

Mr. Sharp. She hasn't knocked very loud at my door yet, 
but I don't know why this is a poor day for her visit. Why? 

Dr. D. Everybody would think it was the census man and 
hide. 

Census Taker. Guess that's what they all did in this 
blooming place. 

Mr. Sharp. I don't take any chances. I answer every 
knock and give my office boy strict orders not to let a client 
escape. 

Mr. Knott. Thought you were the fellow I saw in the 
court room the other morning rushing around as if you hadn't 
time to breathe. 

Mr. Sharp {laughing heartily). Did you see my boy come 
rushing in for me ? 

Mr. K. Yes. The way you ran out I thought some one 
was dying. What was the matter ? 

Mr. Sharp {acting it out). He told me there was a man 
in the office who wanted to see me on business, so I didn't let 
any grass grow under my feet before starting — hadn't seen a 
client for a month. I ran till I was out of breath, the boy 
behind me until he got near enough to say, "You needn't 
hurry, sir, I've locked him in." Then I eased up, went in 
slowly and told him I was very busy, but if he would be brief 
I would give hun a few minutes of my valuable time. 

Mr. Saloon. Did you get the case? 

Mr. Sharp {dejectedly). No, he wanted the undertaker. 

Census Taker. Will you people quit your gabbing and 
answer my questions ? I've twenty-six questions to ask each 
one of you, and how do you suppose I'm ever going to do it? 

{Opens book, gets out pen, etc.) 

Mr. Single {stepping up to Census Taker, throwing out 
chest). Do you realize that you are interrupting a meeting of 
which I am the chairman ? 

Census Taker. Can't help that. This is government busi- 
ness and must be attended to, willy-nilly. You go and sit 
down until I'm ready for you. (Mr. Single, amid laughs of 
the people, sits down.) I'll give some of the Avomen a chance 
to talk first. They're always glad to exercise their tongues. 

Mrs. Jones {aside). He seems to be very good at it him- 



TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 7 

self. Tongue hung in the middle and wags at both ends, I 
should say. 

Census Taker {pointing to Miss H.). I'll begin with you. 
Please step out here where I can see and hear you better. 
{Reads. ^ State whether head of family, wife, son, daughter, 
boarder, lodger or servant. 

Miss H. I'm a servant to the public. Let me see {count- 
ing on finger s)y there's the superintendent one, seven on com- 
mittee makes eight, I have fifty children 

Census Taker. Fifty children ! That's the biggest family 
I've struck yet. 

{Laughter.^ 

Miss H. Fifty children who have each two parents 

Census Taker {^nodding head). Oh, I see. 

Miss H. Which makes one hundred, added to eight makes 
one hundred and eight. Yes, I am servant to one hundred 
and eight people. 

Census Taker. Hired girls won't usually work in such 
large families. Do all the washing ? 

Miss H. (^frigidly). I am not a hired girl. I am a school- 
teacher. 

Census Taker {scratching head). Oh, that's it. Huh-huh ! 
(^Reads.) Male or female ? 

Mrs. J. Such ridiculous questions ! If a woman had 
charge of census-taking she'd know better than to ask such fool 
questions. 

Census Taker {reading). State whether white, black, 
mulatto, Chinese, Japanese or Indian. S'pose you call your- 
self white. 

Mrs. Sampson {aside). She's most as black as an Indian. 

Census Taker. How old are you? Give age in com- 
pleted years at last birthday. 

Miss H. {indignantly). I am an unmarried woman and I 
don't think it right to have to answer that question. 

Mrs. Murphy. Shure, a bold that won't sing must be 
made to sing. 

Census Taker. You will have to answer the question. 
How old are you ? 

Miss H. {defiantly). If you've got to know, I'm twenty- 
five. 

Census Taker. You are more than that. Tell the truth. 

Miss H. Well, then, I'm thirty. 



8 TAKING THE CENSUS .IN BINGVILLE 

Census Taker. You're more than that, I know by the 
looks. Own up. 

Miss H. {s?iappishly). If you've got to know, I'm forty 
years old, but I call this census-taking an imposition. 

Census Taker. That's not so old. Cheer up. You have 
some chance of getting married yet. 

{Winks and smiles at audience.^ 

Miss H. I haven't lost hope, but I'll tell you one thmg; I 
wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth, for I'm 
tired and sick of your palaver already. 

{Laughter.) 

Mr. Stone. Thet's the time you got left, Mr. Census- 
man. Can't git ahead of these 'ere schoolma'ams. 

Census Taker {running down list of questions'). Where 
were you born ? 

Miss H. In Athens. 

Census Taker. Huh, a foreigner ! A Greek. 

Miss H. I am not a foreigner. 

Census Taker. You said you were born in Athens, and 
Athens is in Greece if I remember my geography. 

Miss H. I was born in the Athens of America, in Boston. 
Some people are so stupid. 

Census Taker. And some people can't give a straight an- 
swer to a straight question to save their necks. Father and 
mother born in Athens too? 

Miss H. {snappishly). Yes, they were. 

Census Taker {looking down list and mumbling questions). 
That's all I want of you. 

Miss H. And I've had more than I want of you. 

{Laughter.) 

Census Taker. This man looks more intelligent. {Points 
to Mr. E., who rises.) Are you head of the family? 

Mr. E. Yes, presumably, but it isn't wise to be too sure. 
{Turns to people.) Did I ever tell you that story of one of my 
parishioners in my last parish ? 

Dr. D. No, let's hear it. 

Census Taker {in despairing fnanner). He's worse than 
the woman. 

Mr. E. Mr. Hines was a henpecked man if ever there was 
one — didn't dare to say his soul was his own when his wife was 



TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 9 

around, but when she was away you'd think he owned the 
earth. 

Mrs. J. Just like all the male animals. 

Mr. E. One time his wife went away to be gone several 
days, so he invited some of his men cronies to come up and 
spend the evening with him, which they did, and he was brag- 
ging that he was boss in his own house, he'd like to see any 
woman dictate to him, he had whoever he liked come to his 
house, and they did just what they liked, came when they liked, 
and went when they liked. *' In fact," he says, *' I am a regu- 
lar Julius Caesar." {Laughter.') His wife had come quietly 
in while he was talking, walked up to him, took him by the 
ear and says: *< Juhus Caesar, you march straight up-stairs to 
bed, and you," turning to his companions, *'go home; " and 
they went. {Laughter.') I must answer this man's questions. 

Census Taker {running down list of questions to himself). 
How old ? 

Mr. E. Forty-five. Father Time jogs along, doesn't he .? 

Bill Watt. Say, Mr. EUwood, 1 never heard of Mother 
Time. Wasn't there a Mother Time, too? 

Mr. M. Oh, she got lost several centuries ago. Bill. She 
waited to pin her hat on and has never caught up yet. 

Bill. Couldn't she run ? 

Mr. M. No, 'fraid she'd kill some one with the hatpin. 

Bill {pulling hatpin out of Susie Gibbs' hat). I wouldn't 
want to die such a turrible death. Gee ! Just look at that. 

{Holds up hatpin.) 

Susie. You give me my hatpin, Bill Watt. 

Bill. Take it. I don't want your old hatpin. I'd be ar- 
rested for carrying concealed weapons. 

Mr. Jepson {acting out the story). I was in a crowded 
street car the other night and the conductor roared out at a 
meek looking little man who had evidently been imbibing a lit- 
tle, ''Why don't you move up the aisle? There's lots of va- 
cant room between you and the lady." The man shook his 
head unsteadily. '* All the room that's there will stay there for 
all me," he said rather thickly. '* I know when I'm well off, 
betcher life." "Nothing's going to hurt you," says the con- 
ductor. ''Notin'ng going to hurt me? Whash you call those 
four hatpins? " And he pointed a wobbly finger at four hat- 
pins in the woman's hat long enough to scare any man. 
{Laughter.) 



10 TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 

Census Taker. Guess they'll get the returns from this 
place some time in the next century. (7'6> Mr. E.) Any 
children, mister? 

Mr. E. Two, a boy and a girl. 

Mr. H. Hear about my little girl wanting to sing at the 
wedding in your church the other night, Mr. Elwood ? 

Mr. E. No; wants to begin yomig, doesn't she? You 
mean the Ross wedding? 

Mr. H. Yes ; she'd heard the folks talking about the affair. 
They spoke of some one who was to sing, so she piped up, '*! 
want to sing at the wedding." ''No, dear, you couldn't sing 
there," said her mother. *'Yes, I could; I know a pretty 
piece to sing." " What is it? " I asked. '* I'd sing ' Heaven 
Look with Pity.' " {Laughter.) 

Mr. K. 1 took my little girl to the choral concert the other 
night. Mr. Gustavo was the director, and you know how he 
everlastingly waves that baton. 

Mr. M. Who was the soprano soloist ? 

Mr. K. Madame Alda. When she was singing a solo, 
taking those very high notes, Amy leaned over to her mother, 
and, in a loud whisper that could be heard half way across the 
theatre, says, "Mamma, why does that man hit at the woman 
with his stick ? " '' Hush," says her mother, <' he's not hitting 
her." *' Well, then, what is she hollering so for? " says Amy, 
and I didn't wonder she asked. (Laughier.') 

Census Taker {breaking in hurriedly). Your occupation, 
Mr. Elwood? 

Mr. E. Minister. That makes me think of a story about 
my little boy. 

Census Taker. If they've started telling the bright sayings 
of their kids I might as well stop. 

Mrs. Sampson. The dear little boy ! What did he say? 

Census Taker {disgustedly). The dear little boy ■ 

Mr. E. He is not allowed to come into my study when I am 
writing, but the other morning he came in several times, so I 
finally said to him, " How many times must I tell you not to 
come in here when I am busy ? You must play somewhere 
else. You break my train of thought. Do you understand ? 
You break my train of thought." He hung his head and went 
to find his mother. ** Mamma, papa has been calling me 
names — dreadful names. He called me a train wrecker, and I 
don't wreck trains, do I, mamma? " {Laughter. 7\y Census 
Taker.) I beg your pardon. What's your next question ? 



TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE H 

Census Taker. What denomination ? 

Mr. E. a Methodist. I've got to tell another story about 
that boy of mine. 

Census Taker. Will he ever stop ? 

Mr. E. He'd been rather naughty one day, so I asked him 
if he didn't want to go to heaven to live. I was rather sur- 
prised at his answer. '' No," he said, *' I've moved six times 
already, and I'm getting rather tired of helping pack furniture." 
{To Census Taker.) Anything more you want to ask? 

Census Taker (reading frotn book). State whether able to 
speak English. (Aside.) Only trouble with him is he doesn't 
know when to stop speaking English. Very common trouble 
with ministers. (Aloud.) That's all, sir. Perhaps this woman 
with the children would like to answer next. Are these all the 
children you have, madam? 

Mrs. Stone. Yes. 

Census Taker. This is a little girl. (Points to one.) And 
this one belongs to the contrary sex. Am I right ? 

Mrs. Stone. What did you say ? 

Census Taker. I said this one belonged to the contrary 
sex. 

Mrs. Stone. Oh, yes, yes, they both belong to the con- 
trary sex ; both girls, and contrary is no name for 'em. 

Census Taker (smilirig at little girl). Wouldn't you like 
to tell me what name your mother calls your father, my little 
girl? 

Child (indignantly). She don't call him any names. She 
likes him. (Laughter.) 

Census Taker. How old are you, madam? 

Mrs. Stone. I've just reached my thirtieth birthday. 

Census Taker (aside). Huh, took you about fifty years to 
reach it. (Aloud.) Your occupation ? 

Mrs. Stone. Oh, I get up about four o'clock, mornings, 
get breakfast for the family and three hired men, see to the 
milk, feed the hens and pigs, get the children off to school, 
wash dishes, bake, sweep, make beds and 

Census Taker. Oh, you keep house. (Writes ajid reads 
aloud.) Occupation — none. 

Mrs. Stone. I tell my husband I don't know what is the 
matter with me. After I've washed, ironed, swept, baked, 
washed dishes, fed pigs, milked cows and the rest of the work, 
I'm too tired after supper to sew. I think I must have the 
hookworm. 



12 TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 

Census Taker. Must be something serious the matter with 
you if you're tired after that. (^To Mr. K.) Are you Shott ? 

Mr. K. No, I'm not shot or half shot. 

Census Taker. I thought you looked like a man I used to 
know — John Shott. 

Mr. K. No, I'm Knott. 

Census Taker. Tell me what your name is then. 

Mr. K. Will Knott. 

Census Taker. Why not? What is your name? 

Mr. K. Will Knott. 

Census Taker {angrily). I demand you to tell your name. 

Mr. K. How many times do you want me to tell it ? My 
name is Will — W-i-1-1 — Knott — K-n-o-t-t. 

Census Taker. Oh, certainly — Knott — your occupation? 

Mr. K. An aeronaut. {Quotes.) 

*' Death comes to daring spirits 
Who wing the blue ; 
The sparrow's fall is heeded ; 
Will man's be, too?" 

Dr. D. If you sail the blue you're a sailor, aren't you? 

Mr. K. Guess so. 

Dr. D. Why don't you use nautical language and say: 
" Shiver my timbers " ? 

Mr. K. Oh, you're behind the times. I say '* Shiver my 
gas bag " or ** Shiver my wings." 

Mr. Sharp. They call a man who is always on the water a 
sea-dog, don't they? 

Mr. K. I believe so. 

Mr. Sharp. Then you must be a skye-terrier. 

Mr. K. a skye-terrier ! Why ? 

Mr. Sharp. Because you're always in the sky. 

Census Taker. Any children? {Aside.) Most afraid to 
ask that question for fear of getting them started on stories 
again. 

Mr. K. One. 

Census Taker. How old ? 

Mr. K. Let me see — born March, 1894. How old would 
that be ? 

Cen.sus Taker. Depends on whether it's a boy or a girl. 
That will do for you. Who next? 

Dr. D. Better try me. 



TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE I3 

(Dr. D. steps out close to Census Taker.) 

Census Taker. What smells so? {Holds nose.) Phew ! 

Dr. D. It's this suit. My wife had it packed away in 
moth balls. When I put them on to-night she noticed I 
looked rather sad and inquired the reason. ''These clothes," 
I moaned. ''You ought to look pleased over them," she 
said; "there isn't a moth in them." "I know it," I replied, 
"but it's just my sympathetic nature, which sometimes carries 
me to painful extremes. Of course I'm glad the moths are 
gone, but I can't help being sorry for them to have to die such 
a horrible death." 

Mr. J. Killed all the germs, hey ? 

Dr. D. Yes, and don't know but it will kill me. Speaking 
of germs makes me think of something my little boy 

Census Taker. Oh, murder, on that tack again ! 

Dr. D. We're very careful about germs at our house ; spray 
the telephone, sterilize the drinking cups, don't allow him to 
drink in pubhc, etc. 

Mr. Sharp. Don't wonder the kid gets sick of it. 

Dr. D. The other night he said to me, "Papa, do you 
know what I'm going to do when I grow up? " " No," I said, 
expecting to hear he was to be a policeman or a conductor. 
" I'm going to do something aw-ful. I'm — going — to — eat — a 
— germ; a — real — live — germ." 

{Laughter.) 

Mr. M. Say, Doctor, how's your faith cure working ? 

Dr. D. Fine — fine. Hear about my last case? 

Mr. M. No, haven't heard. 

Dr. D. You knew Mr. Johnson, Sam Johnson, didn't you? 

Mr. M. The one that Uved on Ash Street ? 

Dr. D. Yes; he was a pretty sick man last fall. Ought to 
have gone to a warmer climate but couldn't afford to, so I 
thought I'd try the power of imagination on him. I had a 
large sun painted on the ceiling of his room and persuaded him 
to think it was a hot sun shining on him. 

Mr. M. How did it work ? 

Dr. D. Fine at first. Thought he was improving rapidly 
when, on my arrival there one morning, I found him dead. 

Mr. J. Failed ? 

Dr. D. No, it worked too well. His imagination was too 
strong and he simply died of a sunstroke. 



14 TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 

(Man rushes in Jiolding fifiger.) 

Man. Where is the doctor ? 

Dr. D. Right here. What can I do for you ? 

Man. I've cut my index finger. 

Dr. D. {shaking head). Sorry, sorry, but I can't do any- 
thing for you. I'm a specialist on the middle finger. Run 
right across the street to Dr. Smith. \^Exit Man. 

Census Taker. Did you say you had children, Doctor ? 

Dr. D. I've got a parrot. 

Mr. E. Good talker ? 

Dr. D. Great, but I'm afraid I can't keep it here. Had 
him in the medical college and he picked up a lot of pro- 
fessional terms. Mrs. Simpson was calling on us the other 
evening and somebody asked her to sing. You know what a 
wretched, raspy voice she has. The instant she stopped that 
parrot screeched: "Chloroform her, chloroform her." I've 
lost that patient all right, and she was one of my wealthiest 
ones. 

Mr. Stone. I don't want to be no doctor. Reckon I'd 
dream of cases. 

Dr. D. 1 did dream of one the other night. Little Joseph 
Abbott has had a number of operations, appendix and tonsils 
removed, etc., and 1 pitied the poor little chap and had been 
thinking of him a good deal. Suppose 1 had him on my mind 
when I fell asleep, for I dreamed he was at the gates of heaven 
asking to go in. Peter asked him if he had been baptized. 
"No, not exactly," says he, "but I've had my appendix 
removed, my tonsils taken out, my eye muscles cut, one kidney 
removed and my ear drum pierced." Peter went over to the 
card index, returned in a moment and said, "All right, sonny, 
they're all here; you may come in and join them." 

Miss PI. That's as bad as a little girl I had. She had been 
absent several days, so I looked her up and inquired the cause. 
"I'll tell you, ma'am," she says. " I wuz gittin' along reel 
well in school and wuz goin' to keep on till I hed a fine eddi- 
cation, but you know one day a man came and 'zamined me 
and sed I'd have to hev my tonsils cut out, have my teeth 
pulled out and wear glasses, and when I went home and told 
my mother she sed, * You kin jest stay to hum ; I ain't a-goii)' 
to hev you insected fer no school.' " 

Mr. H. Guess you must have been the man, Doctor. 

Census Taker {to Mrs. Tibbetts). I'll see if I can get 



TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE I5 

in a few words now. You next, madam. I'll take the hardest 
question first. How old are you ? 

Mrs. T. {giggliftg like a schoolgirl^. I don't like to tell. 

Census Taker. But you must tell. 

Mrs. T. I'm afraid if the teacher heard she'd make me go 
back to school. 

Census Taker {aside). She's over forty, I'll wager. 
{Aloud.) Come, madam, your age. I have no time to waste. 

Mrs. T. I've kept my age a secret since I was twelve years 
old. 

Census Taker {slyly ; winking at people). Well, you'll 
tell it one of these days. Women can't keep a secret. 

Mrs. T. Well, I think when a woman has kept a secret 
thirty-five years she knows pretty well how to keep it. 

Census Taker. A little example in addition. Thirty-five 
and twelve are forty-seven. Thank you, madam. 

Mrs. T. You — you — you horrid creature ! 

Census Taker. Married ? 

Mrs. T. {giggling). Not now. 

Census Taker. How many times have you been married ? 

Mrs. T. Three, but {giggling and co?nifig closer to Census 
Taker) I'm willing to get married again. 

{Tries to put arms around liim.) 

Census Taker {stepping hack hastily). Madam, I am not 
proposing, I am taking the census. 

Mrs. T. Wouldn't you like to take a wife, too ? 

Census Taker. No, I'm no bigamist. I have a wife and 
six children already. 

Mrs. T. Horrid creature ! I've a good mind to sue you 
for trifling with my affections. {Floufices back to seat.) 

Census Taker. The government ought to pay a hundred 
dollars an hour for this job. Catch me ever taking the census 
again. Here, you, mister {to Mr. Saloon), step up here and 
answer these questions lively. (Mr. Saloon steps vp.) What 
is your name ? 

Mr. Saloon. John J. Saloon. 

Census Taker. Saloon ! I never heard that name before. 
Spell it. 

Mr. Saloon. Hess, hay, hell, two hoes, hand hay hen. 

Census Taker {dropping hook and pencil and staring at 
him open-mouthed). Say, spell that again, will you? What 
language do you speak, anyway ? 



l6 TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 

Mr. Saloon. Hi'in haii Henglishman hand Hi speak the 
HengHsh language. Can't you understand plain Henglish, 
you blooming hid lot ? 

Census Taker (^picking up book). Well, try your ** Heng- 
Hsh " again. Spell your name. 

Mr. Saloon. Hess, hay, hell, two hoes, hand hay hen. 

Census Taker (^shaking head in despair ; finally handifig 
Mr. Saloon the book). Here, write your "Henglish"; I 
can't "Henglish" it. (Mr. Saloon takes book, writes and 
hands back. Census Taker reads aloud.) S-a-1-o-o-n. Why 
couldn't you say so in the first place? Your occupation, Mr. 
Saloon ? 

Mr. Saloon. Hi'm a barber. 

Mr. Sharp. Related to Christopher Columbus? 

Mr. Saloon. Not that Hi know of. 

Mr. Sharp. Thought perhaps you might be — same trade. 

Mr. E. Why, Christopher Columbus' folks weren't barbers ! 

Mr. Sharp. History tells us they were woolcombers, 
doesn't it? {Laughter.) 

Census Taker. Ever serve in the navy, Mr. Saloon ? 

Mr. Saloon. Yes, hay litde while, honly barber hin the 
regiment. Major was hawful mad when Hi left. 

Dr. D. Couldn't get any one to cut his hair, I suppose. 

Mr. Saloon. When they told him there was no one hin the 
regiment who could cut hair, he said : " Hain't there hay gar- 
dener hin the company? Find him hand send him to me." 

Mr. M. What good would a gardener do ? 

Mr. Saloon. When the gardener came the major said : 
" Hare you hay gardener ? " "Hi ham," he said. " Then go 
cut hair," says the major. " Hi can't cut hair," says the gar- 
dener. " Great guns, man, hif you can cut grass you can cut 
hair. Go hand do hit." 

Census Taker. I wish you'd cut out your stories. How 
many children have you ? 

Mr. Saloon. Six. 

Census Taker. Give me their ages. 

Mr. Saloon. Hall right, sir. Mary will be thirteen hin 
September — yes — that must be right ; hand John his — John his 
— ahem — John his — he's going on twelve Hi guess ; then Susie 
— Susie — wait hay minute till Hi think — Susie- — ^Hi never can 
remember how hold she his — but James his — James his — James 
his — and Joe — Joe— Joe his — for goodness' sake, man, go hover 
to the 'ouse hand hask my wife. 



TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 17 

\ ' 

\ Census Taker {sighing deeply). Go sit down. I'll try you 
nixt. {Points to Mrs. Sampson.) Any children? 

Mrs. Sampson. Yes. 

Census Taker. Well, I'll hear about the rising generation 
firs^. 

T!([rs. Sampson. Rising generation ! If you tried gittin' 
'em up in the mornin' a few times you'd never call 'em the 
li.sin' generation agin. 

Mr. E. Bless the children ! What should we do without 
them? 

Dr. D. That isn't the question. What would the measles, 
mumps, chickenpox and whooping cough do without them ? 

Mr. M. Yes, and what would the doctors do without the 
measles, mumps, chickenpox and whooping cough ? 

Census Taker. How many children have you ? 

Mrs. Sampson (nodding head and counting on fingers). 
Lemme see, there's Sue and Kate and Sarah and Liza and Bill 
and Bob and Jim and Joe and John and 

Census Taker. Now, madam, if you would just give me 
the number. 

Mrs. Sampson (angrily). Number? Number? We ain't 
commenced numberin' 'em yet, thank ye. We ain't run out 
of names. 

Mrs. J. I don't see how you ever tell those twins apart, 
Mrs. Sampson ; they're as like as two peas in a pod. 

Mrs. Sampson. I can't alius, but if I hear a noise in the 
pantry and call out, ''Bill, is thet you?" and he ses, ''Yes, 
ma," I'm purty sure it's Bob, and he's up to some mischief. 

Miss H. Where do you ever find room to put all your fam- 
ily in that little house? 

Mrs. Sampson. We do hev ruther a tight squeeze. When 
the last baby came my husband said we'd got to make more 
room somehow, so he hung the broom outdoors and cut off the 
cat's tail. That made a little more room. 

Census Taker. You haven't told me yet how many chil- 
dren you have. 

Mrs. Sampson. I don't know fer certain. 

Census Taker. You don't know ! 

Mrs. Sampson. Not fer certain. You see. Bill's gone 
fishin', Bob's got a gun and gone huntin', John's breaking a 
colt, and Sue's thinkin' of elopin'. Can't reely tell how many 
I hev till I get 'em all in bed. 

Census Taker (disgustedly). Sit down. (Aside.) I'll 



1 8 TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 

say twenty-five for a guess. {To Mr. M.) You next. Oc- 
cupation ? 

Mr. M. Undertaker. 

Mr. J. Solemn business, Mr. More, but I suppose you li?ve 
some queer experiences like the rest of us ? 

Mr. M. Yes; funny thing happened the other night. 
Telephone rang, I answered, some one asked, " Can 1 get a 
box for two here to-night? " ** Box for two? We don't have 
boxes for two here. They're all for one." *' Isn't this the 
City Theatre?" *'No," I said, "this is the undertaker's," 
and he hung up quick without ordering a box for two. 

{Laugliter .^ 

Census Taker {impatiently). Any children? 

Mr. M. Yes, one daughter. 

Census Taker. Her name ? 

Mr. M. {smiling at people). Postscript. 

Census Taker. Postscript ! Do you mean to say your 
daughter's name is Postscript ? 

Mr. M. That's what we call her. 

Mr. H. Why do you call her that ? 

Mr. M. Because her name is Adaline More. 

Mr. H. Ad-a-line More. Oh, I see. Pretty good. 

Census Taker. That's all for you. Here, you fellow, 
come out here. {Points to Bill, who shambles out, knocking 
over several chairs.) What's your name? 

Bill {gri7ining). Bill. 

Census Taker. Bill what ? 

Bill {hands in pocket, shifting from one foot to other). Bill 
Watt. 

Census Taker. Now don't try to be funny with me. I 
want your name, and I want it quick. What is it ? 

Bill {vacantly). Watt ! Watt ! Watt is my name. 

Census Taker. Yes, what is your name? 

Bill. Watt — Watt — Watt. Do you want me to whistle it? 

Mr. E. His name is W-a-t-t— Watt. 

Census Taker. Occupation ? 

Bill. Hey ? 

Census Taker. What do you work at? 

Bill. I've got a job. 

Mr. K. Where are you working, Bill ? 

Bill. In a domino factory. 

Mr. H. What do you do there ? 



V 



TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE I9 



}iLL. I put on the dots. 

Mr. J. Why aren't you working to-day, Bill? Business 
dull? 

Bill. Business ain't dull; they're making double blanks 
to-day; ain't no dots to put on. (^Laughter.') 

Mr. Stone. Say, Bill, I know something you couldn't dew. 

Bill. Guess not. I kin do anything. 

Mr. Stone. Wall, you couldn't do this. Want to try it? 

Bill. Fire ahead. 

Mr. Stone. You can't carry water in a sieve. 

Bill. Huh, that's easy. 

Mr. Stone {luinking at crowd). Want to try it ? 

Bill. What'll you give me if I do it ? 

Mr. Stone. I'll give you a quarter. 

Bill. All right, get your quarter ready. (Bill goes out 
and amid roars of the crowd appears with a piece of ice in a 
sieve.) Hand over your quarter. 

Mr. Stone. I said water. 

Bill. Ain't ice frozen water? You didn't say what kind 
of water. 

Chorus of Voices. Give him the money. He's won. 
Got ahead of you that time, etc. 

Dr. D. Don't get much ahead of Bill, after all. 

(Mr. Stone gives Bill the money, ivhich he tries with his 
teeth, drops to hear it ring, etc.) 

Census Taker. Are you married, Bill? 

Bill (sad/y). Yes, 1 am, and I wish I wasn't. 

Mr. Sharp. Don't you like matrimony, Bill? 

Bill. No, don't Uke it — don't like it at all. 

Mr. Sharp. Why not? 

Bill. Well, lawyer, yer see it's this way. Before we was 
married, when I knocked at the door, she used ter say, ''Am 
that you, honeysuckle?" Now when I come home she yells 
out, "Wipe your dirty feet before you come in, you clown, 
you ! " No, siree, matrimony ain't all a bed of roses. 

Dr. D. (aside). Queer thing about this chap— offer him 
the choice of a cent or a nickel and he'll take the cent every 
time. (A/oud.) Here, Bill, which will you have? 

(Offers him a penny and a nickel.) 

Bill {grinning). I'll take this one. 



20 TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 

{Takes penny. Several others try him, Bill taking the 
penny each time amid much laughter.') 

Dr. D. Bill, why is it you always take the cent instead of 
the nickel ? 

Bill. What do you think? Think I'm a fool, hey? Sup- 
pose I took the nickel, would I ever get the chance to take 
another one ? 

Census Taker. You're too smart for this crowd, Bill. I'm 
through with you. Go, sit down. 

Bill (returning to seat, counting pennies aloud). Got 
enough to buy some 'backy. 

Census Taker (to Mrs. J.). You next. Your name? 

Mrs. J. I don't know. 

Census Taker, You didn't understand my question. 
What is your name ? 

Mrs. J. I don't know for sure. 

Census Taker. Don't know your own name ! 

Mrs. J. I've been divorced several times. At present my 
name is Mrs. Jones in this state; in some states it is Miss 
Simpson, my maiden name ; in three states it is Mrs. Brown, 
my first husband's name, and in two states it is Mrs. Rogers, 
my second husband's name. 

Mr. Sharp. Say, when a woman marries and gets divorced 
inside of a week what would you call it ? 

Mr. Single. I'd call it taking his name in vain. 

Census Taker. What were the causes of your divorces ? 

Mrs. J. The causes of my divorces? My marriages, of 
course. 

Census Taker. Is this your residence? 

Mrs. J. I eat and sleep here, but I have a trunk in the 
next state where I am getting a divorce from my present 
husband. 

Census Taker. Then you're married at present ? 

Mrs. J. I'm married in New York, Massachusetts and 
Rhode Island, divorced in Oklahoma, Dakota and Alaska, a 
bigamist in five states and a single woman in four others. 

Mr. J. The old saying is true, "It is only fools who get 
married." 

Mrs. J. That's because Providence takes care of the fools. 

Mr. J. How do you make that out? 

Mrs. J. By giving them wives to look out for them. What 
would you men have had if the Lord had not made us ? 



TAKING THE CENSUS IN BING^^ILLE 21 

Dr. D. One more rib. 

{Laughter.') 

Mrs. J. Statistics show also that seventy-five per cent, of 
the male criminals — seventy-five per cent, of the male criminals 
are unmarried. What does that show ? 

Mr. Stone. Shows how many men ruther go to the peni- 
tentiary than git married. Say, that hobble skirt you've got 
on makes me tired. How do you ever git home in it ? 

Mrs. J. {scornfully). You needn't worry about my getting 
home. I get home in better season and in better condition 
than you men folks do with your free- legged trousers. 

Mr. H. Here's a conundrum. Why is it that all our coins 
have a woman's head stamped on them ? 

Mr. Single. Why do our coins have a woman's head 
stamped on them ? 

Mr. H. That's it. 

Mr. M. Because money talks. Right ? 

Mr. H. Right you are. 

Census Taker. H^ow old are you, Mrs. Jones, Brown, 
Rogers, Simpson, whatever your name is ? 

Mrs. J. Thirty. 

Census Taker. Thirty what ? 

Mrs. J. Thirty years. 

Census Taker. Oh, I thought it might be months. {Aside.) 
She'll never see forty again. Guess I'll set a trap for her. 
{Aloud.) How many years since you were first married ? 

Mrs. J. {smilingly). Twenty-five years. 

Census Taker. Thirty years old now, been married 
twenty-five years. Married rather young, didn't you? Five 
years is rather a tender age for matrimony. 

Mrs. J. {indignantly). I'll not stay here to be insulted. I 
am not perfect, but {striking an oratorical attitude and gesticu- 
lating) who is perfect ? Think carefully each for himself or 
herself — every man and woman in this audience — have you 
ever known or heard of a perfect person — an absolutely perfect 
person ? {Pauses. ) 

Mrs. Stone. I think I have, Mrs. Jones. 

Mrs. J. Who was it, pray? I should like to meet that 
person. 

Mrs. Stone. It was my husband's first wife. 

Mrs. J. {to Census 1 aker). Are you through widi your 
crazy questions ? 



22 TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 

Census Taker. Yes, through with you. 

Mrs, J. I'm going home, then. Vou men had better get 
started too if you haven't any hobble skirts. [Exii Mrs. J. 

Mr. Single. Hearing the name Jones makes me think of a 
strange echo I heard once. Up in a range of hills about 
twenty miles from here there is a little ravine where, if you 
stand at one end of it and yell Jones, the echo comes back, 
"Jones, Jones, Jones, what Jones?" 

(^Laughter.) 

Mr. M. Mrs. Jones is a strange woman. 

Mr. E. Still she's very liberal in her charities. 

Miss H. But not very practical. She was visiting my 
school one day when I was talking to the children about the 
sleeping sickness of the Africans, and the next day sent me 
fifty alarm clocks to send to them. 

Census Taker {to Rosy Grady). Come, my pretty girl, 
your turn next. 

Rosy. Shure, kape a civil tongue in yer head and not be 
afther calling me pretty before all these folks for 1 can't be 
afther returning the compliment. Begorra, I was in a strate-car 
the other day and the conductor comes straight up to me, stops 
in front of me and before all the paple says, ** Your fare." 
"Shure," I says, "1 know I'm fair, but if you want to be 
afther telling me that just come round to my place some aven- 
ing." That stopped his noise for he just said, "Money." 
I gave it to him and he wenl off quick as scat, looking rather 
silly. 
. Mrs. Sampson. Wliere are yon woiking now. Rosy? 

Rosy. At Mrs. Lawson's. 

Mrs. Sampson. What do you do? 

Rosy. I take care of the baby. 

Dr. D. Mr. Lawsoii is very particular about that baby, 
isn't lie, Rosy ? 

Rosy. Shure, he is that. When I wint to see about the 
place Mrs. Lavvson says {rfiunickui,^), "My husband is very 
particular about the person 1 have for a nurse. He wishes ine 
to go into the most minute details about your qualifications. 
Do you know how to prepare food ? Can you sew and mend ? 
Do you mind sitting up late at night? Are you faithful and 
devoted and have )^ou a kind and loving disposition ? " Shure, 
I thought it was toime for me to say a woird, so I says, "Ex- 



TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 23 

cuse me, ma'am, am 1 to take care of the baby or your 
husband?" 

{LaughUr.) 

Mrs. Stone. I'm coming to call on Mrs. Lawson some day. 
I don't know as she'll care to see me. 

Rosy. Shure, she will. Oi heard her tellin' Mr. Lawsoii 
only last night that avery time the door-bell was afther ringing 
it was some wan with a bill and she wished some wan would 
call besoides the collector. Shure, she'd be glad to see you. 

Mrs. Sampson. Well, I tried to call the other day and the 
girl sed she wasn't to hum. I seen her peekin' out of the 
winder when I went up the walk, so I jist give her her come- 
uppance, told the girl to tell her that as I saw her peekin' out 
of the winder I was afraid she was to hum and I'd have to go 
in. She needn't think she's any better than other folks if she 
does live in a bigger house. 'Tain't paid fer, I don't believe. 

Mr. Sharp. Going to get married pretty soon. Rosy ? 

Rosy. Yes, sor. 0!i {fumbling in pocket and taking out 
soiled scrap of paper ivliich she hands to Mr. E.), he wanted 
me to give you this; he's away jist now. 

Mr. E. (reading). ''This is to give you nolis that me and 
Rosy is comin' to your church on Saturday afternoon nex' to 
undergo the opperation of matrimony at your hands. Please 
be on hand as we are goin' to have a team and it is hired by 
the hour." 

Mr. Sharp. Thought you told me you wouldn't marry Pat 
till he had saved a thousand dollars. He hasn'i got that much 
saved yet, has he? 

Rosy {twisting handkercJiief and looking doivn). Pie told 
me last week that he had saved ten dollars and I told him that 
was near enough. 

Mr. J. What does he work at, Rosy ? 

Rosy. Shure, he's the milkman that laves the milk ivery 
morning. Mrs. Lawson saw him kiss me the other morning 
and she says (ifmnicking), " In the future I will take the milk 
in." *' Shure," says I, "it wouldn't be no use, mum, he's 
promised never to kiss any one but me." 

Mr. M. Was it his cart that got upset the other morning ? 

Rosy. Yes. Shure, the strate-car run plum into it and 
spilt can afther can of milk all over the strate. A big fat three- 
hundred- pound woman got roight in front of Pat when he was 
saying, ''What a waste! what a waste!" and do ye moind 



24 TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 

she was that mad and says she, ''Moiud your own business. 
I'll look out fer me own waist." Moind that, will ye? 

(^Laughter.') 

Mrs. M. Shure, Rosy, I thought Jim Mahoney, the street- 
car conductor, was your stiddy. 

Rosy. He was; but I was afther getting tired of him. He 
was afther talkin' shop all the toime. 

Mrs. M. What did he say ? Begorra he was a foine con- 
ductor. 

Rosy. Sit up closer — sit up closer — he was afther saying all 
the toime, and 1 couldn't stand it no longer. 

Mr. Single. When is Pat coming back, Rosy? 

Rosy. I've just had a letter from him. Shure, his eddica- 
tion is illigant. {I'akes letter from pocket.') Look at that, 
will ye, and he was afther writing it all himself. {Reads.) 
''Miss Rosy Grady, at Mr. Lawson's Private Way, Dangerous 
Crossing, Bingville, Massachusetts, U. S. A." Shure, I'm 
proud of Pat. 

Dr. D. Where are you going on your wedding trip. Rosy ? 

Rosy. To the ould country. Shure, Pve the money all put 
away in my slocking. 

Dr. D. 1 hope you won't have the same experience a young 
couple I knew had. It was a very rough trip and the boat was 
rolling and pitching like fury. " Harry," said the young bride, 
" do you still love me? " '' More than ever," was his earnest 
reply. After a moment's pause she said, as she looked up with 
a ghastly face, '' Harry, I thought that would make me feel 
better, but it doesn't." 

Census Taker {looking at watch). It's getting late; 
hurry up. You next. (7> Mr. Single.) Are you single ? 

Mr. Single. Yes. 

Mr. E. Why, he's married; I married him. 

Census Taker. What do you mean by lying to me, sir? 

Mr. Single. I'm not lying — I'm Single. 

Census Taker. Aren't you married? 

Mr. Single, Yes, I'm married. 

Census Taker. But you just told me you were single. 

Mr, Single, I'm married, but I'm Single. 

Census Taker. Is the man crazy? Are you married or 
are you single ? 

Mr. Single. Both ; I am married and my name is Single. 
Understand ? 



TAKING THE CENSUS IN BJNGVILLE 25 

Census Taker. Some folks are so smart. You're the ed- 
itor, aren't you ? 

Mr. Single. Yes. 

Mr. K. Suppose you'll have a glowing account of the 
wedding in to-morrow's paper, Mr. Single? 

Mr. Single. Yes, 1 have it here in my pocket all ready for 
the press. 

Susie. Oh, do read it, Mr. Single. I just love weddings. 
(Sadiy.') I wonder if 1 will ever have one? 

Mr. Single. I'll read you part of it. Couldn't sell my 
paper if I give you all the news. (^Reads.) <' The bride looked 
very well in a traveling suit, but all eyes were centred on the 
groom. He wore a black suit that fitted his exquisite form to 
perfection, and in his daintily gloved hand he held a bunch of 
lilies-of-the-valley. His glossy hair was beautifully curled and 
a delightful odor of hair oil of the finest quality floated back to 
the audience as he slowly passed down the aisle. The young 
people will miss him since he has joined the ranks of the bene- 
dicts. He is loved by all for his many accomphshments, his 
tender graces, pleasant smile and winning ways. The bride 
has a good salary as a l)Ookke:eper, and the dear boy will miss 
none of the luxuries of his bachelor life. A number of pretty 
young men friends were at the station to see him depart." 
How's that ? 

Mrs. T. Well, that beats the Dutch. Not a word about 
the bride's costume. 

Mr. Single. The brides have had the monopoly long 
enough. It's time to say a word about the man in the case. 

Susie. I wouldn't care whether they said anything about 
me or not, if I could only get a man. 

Mr. M. Better not get married, Susie. Marriage is a 
pottery. 

Miss H. You mean a lottery, don't you, Mr. More ? 

Mr. M. No, I mean a pottery — a place for making family 
jars. 

Census Taker (Jo Mr. Single). I understand you began 
life as a newsboy. 

Mr. Single {winkijig to people). No, you've been misin- 
formed. 

Census Taker. You didn't begin life as a newsboy? 

Mr. Single. No, no, indeed ; I began life as an infant. 

Mr. J. Have a nice trip to Washington, Mr. Single? 

Mr. Single. Fine. 



26 TAKING THE CENSUS m BINGVILLE 

• 

Mr. J. Congress in session ? 

Mr. Single. Yes. Heard a pretty good thing when I was 
in the Senate gallery. 

Census Taker. Another story 1 

Mr. Single. A gentleman and his little son were sitting 
next to me, and the boy had a good many questions to ask. 

Mr. E. Wouldn't be a live boy if he didn't. 

Mr. Single. Finally the chaplain got up to offer prayer. 
<<He prays for the Senate, does he, pa?" asked the boy. 
"No," said his father, ''he gets up and takes a look at the 
Senate, then prays for the country." 

(^Laughter.') 

Mr. Single {to Census Taker). Any more questions? 

Census Taker. No. {Aside.) I'll guess at the rest for 
fear he'll think of another story. While I think of it can any 
of you tell me a place in this town where I can get a decent 
meal? 

Mr. H. Might try Robinson's restaurant. 

Mr. Saloon. Hi used to heat there, but Hi don't hany 
longer. 

Mr. H. Why not ? 

Mr. Saloon. Well, one day Hi went hin hand the bread 
was sour hand the butter rancid, so Hi thought Hi'd speak to 
Mr. Robinson habout hit, but they told me he was hout. The 
next day hit wasn't hany better, so Hi hinquired for himhagain 
but he was hout hagain. The next day hit was the same, so Hi 
hasked one of the girls where he was, hand she says, ** Hi hex- 
pect him back hany minute. He has just gone hout to get his 
lunch." 

Dr. D. Better ask him where he gets his lunch. 

Mr. Saloon. That's what Hi'm going to do. 

Dr. D. You think more of what you eat than a friend of 
mine did — a young surgeon. 

Census Taker. They're started again. 

Mr. Sharp. What did he do ? 

Dr. D. He was invited to a Thanksgiving dinner, and when 
the turkey was brought in the host said, ''Now, Doctor, on ac- 
count of your great surgical skill, I'll ask you to carve the 
turkey. I'm sure you can do it better than I can." The 
doctor took his place at ihe head of the table, raised the carving- 
knife and made a deep cut in the turkey's breast, smiled absent- 
mindedly, then frowned, felt in his pockets, took out some 



TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 2/ 

medicated cotton, a roll of bandage and some pins, then pro- 
ceeded to dress and bind up the cut he had made. When he 
had it all done nicely, he palled the turkey, looked up with a 
smile and said, ''Now, I think that with rest and good care, 
the patient will soon be on his feet again." 

(^Laughter.') 

Mr. Stone. Wall, I vum. Didn't they eat the creature? 

Dr. D. No, they couldn't bear to hurt the doctor's feelings, 
so they had a turkeyless dinner. 

Mr. J. Cheap way. Very saving of him. 

Dr. D. Speaking of being saving makes me think of a Jew 
that got a glass eye for his son. I got it all fitted nicely and 
imagine my surprise when he said to him, " Now remember, 
Ikey, dat vas a goot glass eye you've got. It cost me lots of 
money and you must take goot care of it. Always take it out 
and put it in your pocket when you ain't lookin' at noddings." 

Bill. Say, Mr. EUvvood, is Rotterdam swearing ? 

Mr. E. No, Bill, Rotterdam is the name of a city. 

Bill. Then I can say it all I want to, can't 1, Mr. Ell- 
wood? 

Mr. E. Yes, but why do you ask that. Bill ? 

Bill. I don't want to swear, Mr. EUwood, 'cause you told 
me not to. 

Mr. E. I'm glad you remembered what I told you. 

Bill. Yes, but it's all right to say Rotterdam, ain't it? 

Mr. E. Yes. 

Bill. Well, Susan Smith stole some of my candy to-day and 
I told her I hoped it would rot-ter-dam teeth out. That was 
all right, wasn't it, Mr. EUwood? 

{Laughter.') 

Census Taker {taking Bill by the collar and setting him 
down hara). There, you keep your noise still till I get these 
questions answered. {Points to Mr. J.) You next — name? 

Mr. J. {in rather low voice). Jepson. 

Census Taker. Chipson ? 

Mr. J. No, Jepson. 

Census Taker. Oh, yes, Jefferson. 

Mr. J. {yelling). No, Jepson. {Spells.) J-e-p-s-o-n. 

Census Taker. Jepson — I have it. 

Mr. J. That's right. 

Census Taker. The acoustics of this hall are very bad. 



28 TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 

• 

Mr. Stone. The hall is all right, mister, it's the soap 
factory across the street you smell. 

Census Taker. Your first name? Initial, please. 

Mr. J. Oh, K. 

Census Taker (^pausing between each letter y writing). 
O — K. Jepson. 

Mr. J. Excuse me, it isn't O. K. You didn't understand 
me. I said Oh- 



Census Taker {erasing and ivriting again). O. Jepson. 

Mr. J. No, that isn't right. Rub out the O and let the K 
stay. 

Census Taker {impatiently). Give me your initials again. 

Mr. J. I told you K. 

Census Taker. You said O. K. 

Mr. J. 1 said Oh 

Census Taker. Now you say K. 

Mr. J. {angrily). Let me finish what I started to say. I 
said Oh as an exclamation. I did not mean that it was my 
initial. My name is Kirby Jepson. 

Census Taker. Oh, 1 see. 

Mr. J. No, not O but K. Give me your pencil and I'll 
write it myself. {Writes.) There, 1 hope that's O. K. What 
next ? 

Census Taker. Married ? 

Mr. J. Yes. 

Census Taker. Any children ? Hope that won't start 
another story. 

Mr. J. Two. 

Mrs. Sampson. What have you named the baby, Mr. 
Jepson ? 

Mr. J. Obadiah T. 

Mrs. Sampson. And what does the T stand for? 

Mr. J. That just means Temporarily — ^just till he gets his 
uncle's money. 

Census Taker. Occupation ? 

Mr. J. Grocer, and a mighty poor business it is nowadays. 
Folks finding fault all the time and not paying their bills. 

Mrs. Stone. Yes, Mrs. Hill told me the other day that she 
didn't know what she Avas going to Ci.o about that bill she owed 
you, for you annoyed her terribly about it. 

Mr. J. Tell her to pay it, then ; she's owed me two years 
now. 

Mrs. Stone. That's what I says. Says I to her, "If it 



TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 29 

comes to the worst you can pay it." And says she, '< Yes, 
that's so, I can, but I should never have thought of that." 

Mr. J. Then, there's Mrs. Rapp— always finding fault. 
The other day she sent her little girl down to say that one of 
the currant buns she'd bought the day before had a fly in it, 
and she had the audacity to ask for another bun in its place. 

Mr. M. Suppose you gave her one, didn't you? 

Mr. J. Think I'm a Vanderbilt ? I did not, but I always 
do intend to do the square thing, so I told her to tell her ma 
if she'd send the fly back I'd send her a currant for it. 

Mr. Stone. Wall, Mr. Jepson, I bought some ham from 
you last week and it was mighty bad. 

Mr. J. There they go again. That ham was good, for it 
was cured only last week. 

Mr. Stone. Reckon it must have had a bad relapse, then. 
It certainly wasn't cured, or even on the road to recovery when 
I got it. 

Mr. E. If business is poor why don't you advertise, Mr. 
Jepson ? Advertising pays. 

Mr. J. Not always. My wife sent two dollars in answer to 
an advertisement of a sure method of getting rid of superfluous 
fat. 

Mr. H. Did she get the information? My wife would be 
interested in that. 

Mr. J. Yes, she got an answer saying to sell it to the soap 
man. 

Mr. E. Advertising certainly paid that man. 

Mrs. T. Eggs are terrible high, Mr. Jepson. 

Mr. J. Yes, home eggs are high. 

Mrs. Sampson. I used to use Western eggs, but I don't any 
more. 

Mrs. T. I always do for my cooking. 

Mrs. Sampson. I sent my daughter Sadie to the store one 
morning for a dozen of Western eggs, and she came home in a 
high glee because one egg had the name and address of the 
farmer on it and also a request that the person buying it would 
write to him. 

Mrs. T. (^aside). Bet she did mighty quick. She's set her 
cap for every man round here. {Aloud.') Did she ? 

Mrs. Sampson. Nothing 'ud do but Sadie must boil that 
egg ai]d eat it at once, but she's never cared much for biled 
eggs since. 

Mrs. T. Why? 



30 TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 

Mrs. Sampson. She wrote to the farmer and he sed he was 
reel glad to hear from her, but he hoped she didn't eat the egg 
as it was two years come hayin' time since he writ that, and he 
was married now so couldn't write to her any more. 

Mrs. T. Stung again. Poor Sadie. 

Census Taker. Have you a dry-goods department, Mr. 
Jepson ? 

Mr. J. Yes, and that's worse than the groceries. Women 
are the fussiest creatures; can't please them nohow. 

Mrs. Stone. Don't believe they are any worse than the 
men. 

Mr. J. Yes, they be. A woman came in the other day 
looking for table-cloths. Showed her every one I had in the 
store ; nothing suited her, said she was looking for a new idea 
in cloths. So I just reached round and pulled out one I'd 
shown her before and said, ''If it's something nev/ you want, 
madam, this is just the article. Here you see the centre is 
right in the middle and the border round the edge. The very 
latest thing." 

Mr. E. Did she take it ? 

Mr. J. Yes; she exclaimed, '* Oh, isn't that too sweet for 
anything ! " and bought two of them. Women do beat the 
Dutch ! 

Census Taker. How many brothers and sisters have you 
living and how many dead ? 

Mr. M. Try this, Mr. Jepson, and see if it comes out 
right. {^Give very slowly so audiejice may try if desired y or 
some one else o?i stage might try it.) Take the number of your 
living brothers, double the amount, add to it three, multiply 
by five, add to it the number of your living sisters, multiply 
the result by ten, add the number of deaths of brothers and 
subtract one hundred and fifty from the result. The right 
hand figure will be the number of deaths, the middle will be 
the number of living sisters and the left hand figure will show 
the number of living brothers. 

Mr. J. Correct. {Gives ftumbers to Census Taker.) 

Mr. M. The mails have changed, haven't they? 

Mr. J. Yes, they come in a little earlier now. 

Census Taker. Are you postmaster, too? 

Mr. J. Yes. 

Census Taker. That's a pretty good business. Uncle 
Sam is sure pay. 

Mr. J. Business would be all right if there weren't so many 



TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 



31 



Stupid people around. What do you think of this for stupidity ? 
A big Swede came into the office the other day and said, "Ban 
any letter for me to-day?" "What name, please?" I asked. 
"I tank de name is on de letter," he answered. 

{Laughter.^ 

Mr. H. I bet I've got the hardest name in this room. 

Mr. Stone. You're a stranger to me, but I'll bet my name 
is harder than yours. Will you take me ? 

Mr. H. Yes. 

Mr. Stone. Wall, I'll bet a pint of peanuts that mine's 
harder. I've got the hardest name in the town. It's Stone. 
Ha, ha ! Hand over them peanuts. 

Mr. H. Not much. Mine is Harder. My name is Harder. 

Mr. Stone. Wall, I vum, reckon I've lost. 

Census Taker. I have your name, Mr. Stone. I'll keep 
on with you. Any children ? 

(Mr. Stone comes forward, holding hand to back, twisting 
and squirming.') 

Mr. Stone. Oh, my rheumatiz ! Mister, I've had rheu- 
matiz nigh on to forty year, and 

Census Taker. No matter about your rheumatiz. Answer 
my questions. Any children ? 

Mr. Stone. Got a boy in college, and my first wife used 
to say 

Census Taker. I don't care a rap what your first wife 
said. 

Mr. Sharp. Your boy is quite an inventor, I hear, Mr. 
Stone. 

Mr. Stone. Yes, he's great on inventing labor-saving 
devices. 

Mr. Sharp. What are they ? 

Mr. Stone. Excuses fer not workin'. Saves lots of labor 
fer him, but my first wife used to say 

Census Taker. No matter about your first wife. Keep 
any cows ? 

Mr. Stone. Used to hev some, and ray son Josh wants to 
know why I don't hev one now, but I tell him I reckon while 
he's around that's about the only calf I kin afford to keep. My 
rheumatiz is purty bad. I've tried all sorts of things for it, 
but 



32 



TAKING THE CENSUS IN EINGVILLE 



Census Taker. Stop talking about your rheumatiz, I tell 
you. Suppose you used to keep valuable cows ? 

Mr. Stone. Wall, that depended. If the tax man was in- 
quirin', they was purty cheap stock, but if one got hurt or 
killed and it was a damage case, they was mighty vallable ; 
but as I was a-sayin' my first wife alius said 

Census Taker. Choke it ! Can it ! Cut it out ! 

Mr. Stone {disgustedly). This census don't amount to 
shucks. All you want is a lot of old figgers, and ye don't pay 
no attention to my rheumatiz or my first wife. Waste of money 
— ^jist a senseless waste of money. I'm a-goin' to write to the 
govurnment. {Goes back to seat, muttering.') 

Census Taker. Miss {Points to Susie, who comes 

out simpering a7id giggling.) What is your name? 

Susie {twisting handkerchiefs acting shy). George said I 
was a peach, and I said {giggling) let us make it a pear 
(pair). 

Census Taker. What name did your parents give you ? 
{Aside.) I'm afraid I've struck a hard one now. 

Susie. Susie Gibbs; but I hope it won't be that much 
longer. 

Census Taker. How many people live at your house? 

Susie. Nobody lives there. We're just staying there for 
the cranberry season. 

Census Taker. Well, how many of you are there now? 

Susie. I can't rightly tell. Father's probably in the wood- 
shed smoking, Bill's gone to the post-office and Joe has 

Census Taker. See here, I want to know how many peo- 
ple live at your house. How many slept there last night ? 

Susie. Nobody slept, sir. Ma had an awful toothache, my 
little brother had the stomachache, pa hurt his foot, Bill felt 
queer all over, and I'm in love, so I can't eat or sleep. {Clasps 
hands over heart.) I'm in love, but {weeping) my sweetheart 
has left me. Just listen to the cruel, cruel letter he sent me. 
{Reads sobbingly.) 

Ml Pome too U. 
Hear is the wring u alwus lett me ware. 
Hear is ure lettur ann thee lock uv hare 
U sent me wenn u promist too be troo. 
becuz ure fals i sennd um back too u. 
Doant rite ann ast me wi becuz u no 
Wott u have dun too me thatt greeves me so 



TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 33 

U wennt to ride with wily urn Joseph shedd 
Hearafthur u wil be as iff lire dedd 
Ann i wil pass u bi with skorn ann awl 
mi friends will neaver speke to u a tall 

sum folks wood hate u fore a hartless flurt 

But no, tho u have throne me in thee durt 

i will not hate u. i wil lett u bee 

a sower ole made, ann sum day wenn u sea 

Me goen bi u with a hansum wife 

ule nash ure teath in pane, ann awl ure life 

ule sett ann si becuz u throo me down 

Ann ile be rich ann own most awl thee town. 

but wenn ure dyen in sura loanly plais 

ile kum and dropp a teer on ure dedd fais. 

Uve broak my hart butt there are uther gurls 

With jusst uz luvly faises. they are purls 

beside uv u ann dyen fore a sho 

Too be my awl fore they have tolled me so. 

butt u ann me are dun ann if u kum 

on bennded neeze ann offered me ure gum 

too choo ide waiv u skornfully aside 

Ann wood not eaven kare how much u kride, 

Talk back ure letter ann thee wring i woar 

for u are dedd too me foareavermore. 

{Buries face In handkerchief and sobs.') 

Mr. Sharp. Cheer up, Susie, he'll soon be back. 

Susie. Oh, if he only would. (Sobs.) When I think of 
all our lovely times. (Sobs.) When we went to the circus we 
was waitin' for a car and it came along all crowded full of peo- 
ple and in broad daylight, and what do you suppose he said 
to me? 

Dr. D. Something very sweet, I suppose, Susie. 

Susie. He says, " Come on, Susie, we can squeeze in here, 
can't we?" (Sobs.) I was bashful before all those people, 
and I said, " I think we'd better wait till we get home." (Sobs.) 
I wish I hadn't said it now. Oh, love is a balm for all 
wounds. 

Mr. Stone. I reckon r;o, l)ut I callate I'd ruther use Jimp- 
son's salve. It smells worse, but it cures quicker, and that's 
the main pint. 



34 TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 

Mr. K. Just as good fish in tlie sea as ever was caught, 
Susie. Try again. 

Susie. You don't know what it is to be in love, Mr. Knott. 
It's a dreadful and a beautiful feeling. This little poem shows 
how I felt before he left me. {Takes out poem and reads with 
many gestures y sighs j etc.) 

Love. 

What is this feeling I feel 

Inside my heart now and then ? 

I have felt it there off and on 

For quite a spell back, time and again. 

When I think of him — my knight 

Or whene'er his name 1 utter, 
I feel my face git all red, 

And my heart flops round in a flutter. 

Things always was beautiful to me 
But now they seem more beautifuller, 

Everything's beautiful now 
Even a caterpillar. 

Sometimes I am dizzy with joy 
Like as if from heaven above ; 

But now I know what it be- 
lt is love — love — love. 



{Weeps bitterly?) Oh, I can't talk any more. {Goes to seat.) 

Census Taker {looking over people). Let me see, 1 haven't 
talked with you yet. {Points to Mk. H.) What is your 
name? 

Mr. H. {hesitating). Er — ^er — er 

Census Taker. Go on, go on, to err is human, I know. 
Your name ? 

Mr. H. Er— Mr. Harder. 

Census Taker. Occupation ? 

Mr. H. Chauffeur. 

Dr. D. I have a stenographer who has a stylish way of 
speUing spells loafer 1-a-u-f-f-e-u-r ; says if chauffeur is spelled 
c-h-a-u-f-f-e-u-r, loafer should be spelled 1-a-u-f-f-e-u-r. 



TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 35 

Mr. Sharp. Believes in keeping up to the times, doesn't 
she? 

Census Taker {to Mr. H.). Were you ever arrested? 

Mr. H. What did you think I said I did ? Push a wheel- 
barrow ? 

Census Taker. How often does your car kill a man ? 

Mr. H. Only once, that's usually enough. A man hasn't 
nine lives like a cat. {Turns to company.') Say, gentlemen, 
I've invented an auto horn — great thing. Let me get you in- 
terested in it. 

Mr. M. What kind of a horn is it? 

Mr. H. Oh, one that folks jump at. {Laughter.) Bit 
well, didn't you? 

Mr. K. What is your latest in machines ? 

Mr. H. We have a car now that can climb any hill on earth. 

Dr. D. Huh, that's nothing; the last one I bought tried to 
climb a tree. 

Mrs. Sampson. Autos are turrible demoralizin' things. 
Set a turrible example to the youngsters. 

Mr. H. How's that? 

Mrs. Sampson. Why, jest the other day I heard my John- 
nie swearin' somethin' awful at my Jimmie, so I gave him a 
good shakin' and asked him what he was doin'. He begun 
cryin' and said, " We wuz only playing, and he was the auto 
and needed fixin'." 

Mr. E. I hope you punished him severely for his profanity, 
Mrs. Sampson. Children should be taught better. 

Mrs. Sampson. Yes, I punished him, but I'm afraid it 
didn't do much good. I shut him up in the closet where my 
best clothes are, and he was so quiet I thought somethin' must 
be the matter, so I called out, ''Johnnie, what be you doin'? " 
No answer, so I called agin ; then his little voice piped up : 
"I've spit on your dress, and I've spit on your hat, and I've 
spit on your muff, and now I'm waiting for some more spit to 
come to spit on your new coat," so I yanked him out of that 
closet lively. 

Dr. D, I wish some one would get out a few practical sug- 
gestions about autos. Perhaps that would do away with some 
of the cussing. 

Mr. H. {taking paper from pocket). Here are some right 
here I'll read to you. {Reads.) 

"If your brake fails to work at a critical moment, run into 
something cheap. 



36 TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 

" If you desire to make an impression on a young lady run 
over her. 

"Common humanity dictates that you stop when the tires 
are out of wind. 

<<By seating your best girl in front with the chauffeur you 
will have something pleasant to look forward to during the ride. 

"Should your auto overturn, leave your seat immediately. 

" You should know your brakes or else you may break your 
nose. 

" If a man gets in your way and is run down he should 
apologize. If he is dead, demand an apology from his wife." 

Census Taker. Come, come, I can't stay here all night. 
Here you. (To Mrs. M.) Your name? 

Mrs. M. Murphy, and a foine name it is. 

Census Taker. How old are you ? 

Mrs. M. Sorra, I don't know, sor. 

Census Taker. Think a minute. Don't you know the 
date of your birth ? 

Mrs. M. (shaking hea^ ; arms akimbo). Date of me boirth, 
is it ? Date of me boirth ? Shure, there was no sich things as 
dates whin Oi was boirn. 

Census Taker. Well, how many are there in your family? 

Mrs. M. Sixteen, sor, countin' the ould man and the pigs. 

Census Taker. How many children ? 

Mrs. M. Tin, sor, countin' the twins. 

Rosy. Foine pair of twins ye've got, Mrs. Murphy; but 
bless me sowl, how do ye iver till thim apart ? 

Mrs. M. Faith, that's aisy, Rosy. If Oi puts me finger in 
Pat's mouth and he boites it's Mike. 

Census Taker. How many girls ? 

Mrs. M. Two as foine gurls as iver you set your two 
paapers on. 

Census Taker. How old are they ? 

Mrs. M. Shure, Bridget is about ilivin or twelve years ould. 

Census Taker (shaking head despairingly). When is her 
birthday ? 

Mrs. M. (rubbing forehead, thinking). The gurl was born 
in tater time, that's shure, but whether they was plantin' 'em 
or digging *em Oi can't fer the loife of me remimber. 

Census Taker. Well, how old is the other girl ? 

Mrs. M. Shure, Oi can be afther tillin' you that all roight 
if you can be afther remimberin' whin the Johnstown flood 
was. Shure, she was born that day. 



TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 



37 



Census Taker. All right, madam. Be sealed. (As/\ff.) 
I give that up as a bad job. I'll try the lawyer next. {To 
Mr. Sharp.) You ought to know how to answer questions. 

Mr. Sharp. Yes, lawyers are like little Davy Sloan — 
always asking questions. He asked so many that his mother 
finally told him that if he didn't stop asking so many questions 
something dreadful would happen to him. ** Curiosity once 
killed a cat, you know," she told him. 

Mrs. Sampson. Did she suppose thet would keep a young 
un still ? 

Mr. Sharp. She got left if she did. He kept still about a 
minute then burst out with, ''Say, ma, what was it the cat 
wanted to know? " 

Miss H. I asked Johnnie Thomas the other day how to 
tell the age of a chicken. "By the teeth," he said. " Why, 
chickens don't have teeth," I said. "No'm, but we have." 

Mr. Sharp. I don't wonder. His family take their meals 
where I do. I made the landlady feel rather sour the other 
morning. 

Dr. D. Better keep on the right side of her. 

Mr. Sharp. There doesn't seem to be any right side — not 
for me hereafter, anyway. 

Mr. E. How did you offend her ? 

Mr. Sharp. I casually mentioned as I sat down to the 
breakfast table that 1 could see weather resemblances in the 
most ordinary things. "Indeed, Mr. Sharp; I should love to 
hear them," she said. "This piece of steak reminds me very 
forcibly of a winter's day — cold and raw." 

Mr. J. No wonder you are in her black books. 

Mr. Sharp. "And this coffee reminds me of a November 
day — cloudy and unsettled." 

Mr. M. Whew ! She ought to have told you it reminded 
her of your bill — unsettled. 

Mr. Sharp. She was looking pretty frigid by this time, so 
I continued : " And you, madam, remind me of a March 
day — cold and stormy," and the look she passed down to my 
end of the table would have congealed a red-hot cook-stove. 

(^Laughter.) 

Mrs. T. Some boarders are such hogs; they want the 
earth. 

Mr. Single. Human nature is just the same as it has 



38 TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 

always been. Even when they were trying to get the animals 
into the ark there was a blockade. Noah asked what the 
trouble was and found that both of the hogs wanted the end 
seat. 

Census Taker. Tend to business. Your name ? 

Mr. Sharp. James Sharp. 

Census Taker. Born ? 

Mr. Sharp. Yes, I think so; might have just growed, like 
Topsy. 

Census Taker. Business ? 

Mr. Sharp. Rotten. 

Miss H. I'm sorry to hear you use slang, Mr. Sharp. I'm 
trying to break my pupils of the habit, but it's very hard when 
the parents use it so much. 

Mr. E. Too bad ! Too bad ! 

Miss H. I took dinner the other day with the family of one 
of my girl pupils. I had spoken to her people before about the 
little girl using so much slang, and they said they would have 
her stop it. No sooner had we got seated at the table than 
Marjorie says, *'I'm not stuck on this bread." ''Marjorie," 
says her mother, " cut that slang out." *' That's a peach of a 
way to correct the kid," chimed in her father. ''I know," 
said the mother, "but I just wanted to put her wise." I 
decided not to say anything more to Marjorie about using 
slang. 

Mrs. Sampson. The mother is a great club woman, isn't 
she? 

Miss H. Yes, belongs to every society in town. Her little 
boy asked me the other day what etc. meant. I told him it 
was Latin and meant et cetera. He looked puzzled for a min- 
ute then said, "But I don't know Latin." "Well, it means 
and so on." He looked thoughtful for a minute then said, 
"I wish my mother would stay home from the club and 
et cetera some buttons on my pants. 

{Laughter.') 

Mr. Stone. Purty stiff bill you sent in to Neighbor Jones 
fer thet leetle lawsuit, Lawyer Sharp. 

Census Taker. There they go again ! 

My. Sharp. I don't have many cases so I have to make a 
living out of what I do get, but I'm not quite so bad as Lawyer 
Rogers, who sent his bill in to a chent with these two items in 
it — " To waking up in the night and thinking about your case. 



TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 39 

twenty-five dollars. To dining with you after the case was 
lost, ten dollars." 

(^Laughter.') 

Mr. J. {to Mr. Sharp). Why were you working so hard 
to get that stone turned over up in the pasture the other day ? 
1 watclied you working at it an hour. 

Mr. Sharp. *< Turn me over" was printed on one side, so 
I was curious to see the other side. 

Mr. Saloon. Did you find hout ? 

Mr. Sharp. Yes. 

Mr. Single. You don't seem anxious to tell what it was. 
Out with it. 

Mr. Sharp. Ask Dr. Duncan and Mr, More. They were 
trying to pry it over, too. (7(? Dr. D. and Mr. M.) Didn't 
know any one saw you, did you ? You both slunk off like a 
dog caught stealing sheep. 

Dr. D. {laughing). Yes, we got stung. 

Mrs. Sampson. Tell us what it said. 

Mr. M. Just this: "Now turn me back again so I can 
catch some other idiot." 

{Laughter.') 

Dr. D. {to Mr. Sharp). You're looking better than when 
you were in to see me the other day. You are another man now. 

Mr. Sharp. Well, Doctor, just send in your bill to the 
other man, will you ? 

Mr. Stone. 'Tain't no use fer you to send your bill in to 
me fer a while. Doctor. 

Dr. D. Didn't the crops turn out well ? 

Mr. Stone. I planted three acres of pertaters and I vum 
if those blasted pertater bugs didn't eat the hull crop in two 
weeks and then sat round in the trees picking their teeth 
waitin* fer me to plant more. They seem to know jest where 
to cum. 

Mr. J. I'll tell you, Mr. Stone, what I saw in my store. I 
saw some potato bugs examining my books a few weeks before 
planting time, to see who'd bought seed. Noticed they stopped 
quite a while at your name. 

Census Taker. Will you pay attention to me ? Here, you 
dago, see if you can answer questions straight. How old are 
you ? 

Tony. I— forty. 

Census Taker. Your business ? 



^,0 TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 



Tony. I sella fruit. 
Census Taker. Business good ? 

Tony {shaking head). No— no— 'Mericans treecky— man 
play treecks on me. 

Mr. Single. Don't you like America, Tony? 
Tony. Yes, like 'Merica, but don't like treecky man. 

{Recites with gestures,) 

No like da skeeny olda man 
Dat come to my peanutta stan' 
To-day an' buy da wan banan' 

He rnak' me seeck ! 
Eef evra customer ees go 
For maka treecks an' talka so 
Like heem, you bat my life, I no 

Gat reeche queeck. 

Wal, dessa man he com' an' say : 
" How moocba for banan' to-day?" 
An' so I tal heem right away : 

'^Ees two for fi' !" 
*' Oh, my ! I nms' be gatting deef 
Or you ees talka like da tief ! " 
He say to me, an' look as eef 

He gona cry. 

'' Ees two for fi'," I say agen. 
He shak' hees head at me an' den 
He tal me : *' Mak' eet fi' for ten 

An' tak' da mon'." 
"All right," I say, "I guess weell do." 
Den " Fi' for ten is one for two," 
He say, *' Here ees two cent for you, 

I taka wan ! ' ' 

He tak' da beeges' wan of all ! 
Ha ! w'at you theenka dat for gall? 
He ees so meanna man, so small, 

He mak' me seeck. 
Eef evra customer ees go 
For maka treecks an' talka so 
Like heem, you bat my life, I no 

Gat reeche queeck. 



TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 4I 

Miss H. Why don't you send your boy to school, Tony? 

Tony. He run 'way. 

Miss H. Run away? What did he do that for? 

Tony. He bad boy. I goin' to leeck hmi. He say no — 
he born in 'Merica — he 'Merican — me born in Eetaliee— me 
foreigner. He say he'd no let foreigner leeck him, so he run 
' way. 

(Patrick M alone co7nes running iu) stops ^ looks around 
rather bewildered.') 

Dr. D. {aside). That man wants to be examined for the 
police force, and as I'm the examiner I might as well do it now 
and have it over. {Steps up to Pat.) Strip. 

Pat. Phwat are ye afther saying ? 

Dr. D. Strip. Get your coat off and be quick about it. 
(Pat. takes off coat, collar and necktie. Dr. D. measures his 
chest, arms, legs, pounds his back, etc. , then holds broomstick 
at some distance from the floor.) Hop over this stick. (Pat. 
tries, but lands in a heap on the floor. Dr. D. gets a pail of 
cold water.) Now step under this cold shower. 

Pat. Oi will not. Oi'U sthay single furst. 

Dr. D. Single ! What's that got to do with it ? 

Pat. Begorra, what's all this nonsense got to do with gittin' 
a marriage license ? That's what I'm afther wantin', but begorra 
Oi'd niver have come if Oi'd known Oi had to go through all 
this. 

Dr. D. Oh, I thought you wanted to be examined for the 
police force. You'll get your marriage license next door. 

Pat. And you'll get a black oiye if I iver git the chance 
to give you wan. Examined for the police force, is it? And 
Oi've bin a police fer foive years. 

(Pat. starts to go out, but Census Taker calls him back.) 

Census Taker. I'll ask you a few questions before you go. 

Pat. Are you another examiner ? 

Census Taker. No, I'm taking the census. 

Pat. All roight, me boy. 

(Sits down, puts feet up in another chair and pipe in mouth.) 

Census Taker. No smoking here. 
Pat. Oi'm not smokin'. 



42 TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 

Census Taker. You have a pipe in your mouth. 

Pat. Phwat of it ? Shure, Oi have boots on me fate, but 
Oi'm not walking. 

Census Taker. Your name ? 

Pat. Patrick Malone. 

Census Taker. Are you related to Michael Malone ? 

Pat. Distantly, sor, very distantly. Oi was me mither's 
foirst choild and he was her sivinteenth. Say, Mr. Editor, me 
poor brother Moike has just died. What do you charge fer a 
funeral notice in your paper? 

Mr. Single. Fifty cents an inch. 

Pat. Fifty cints an inch, and me poor brither was six fate 
high. Begorra he'll have to do without a funeral notice. 

Mr. M. How long have you been on the police force? I 
thought you worked for Nolan. 

Pat. Oi'd wurk no more fur that man Nolan. No, indade. 

Mr. M. I thought he was a fine man to work for. What 
was the matter ? 

Pat. Begorra, 'twas on account of a remark he made to me. 

Mr. M. What did he say? 

Pat. Says he, "Pat," says he, ''you're discharged." 

Mr. E. Didn't you work for Mrs. Luce for awhile, Pat? 

Pat. She's a freak, she is. 

Mr. E. Why, I thought she was a fine woman. 

Pat. {shaking head). She's a freak, she's two-faced, fore- 
handed and five feet. 

Census Taker (Jo Pat.). Tend to business here, you 
lobster. 

Pat. Lobster, am I? Look out or I'll //>/<:/^ you. Shure 
the tax man was around the ither day to tax me goat. 

Mr. K. How much did he tax you for it, Pat ? 

Pat. He taxed me eight dollars, the ould scalpeen. 

Mr. K. Eight dollars ! That was pretty steep for a goat. 

Pat. That's phwat Oi said. Says Oi to him, "Look here, 
Casey, you know that goat ain't wurth eight dollars." Says 
he, "Oi'm sorry, but that is the law; " thin he pulls a little 
book from his pocket and rades : " * All property abutting on 
Main Street should be taxed two dollars a foot.' Your goat is 
'buttin' ' on Main Street, ain't he?" " Yis," says Oi, "he's 
always a-butting." " He has four feet, hasn't he?" " Yis," 
says Oi. "And four times two is eight, ain't it?" "Yis," 
says Oi. " So eight dollars is the tax on your goat," says he. 
It's no use thrying to resist the law, so I paid it ; but begorra 



TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 



43 



whin my party gets in, there'll be a change in some of these 
laws. 

Census Taker. Are you a Democrat or a Republican ? 

Pat. Oi'm nayther — Oi'm a Socialist. 

Mr. H. Don't believe you know what a Socialist is, Pat. 

Pat. Shure, Oi do. A Socialist believes in dividing prop- 
erty aqually. If Oi had two million dollars Oi'd give you wan 
and kape the ither myself. 

Mr. H. If you had two farms, Pat, what would you do ? 

Pat. Oi'd divide. Oi'd give you wan, and kape wan. 

Mr. H. If you had two pigs, Pat, would you share those, 
too? 

Pat. Oh, you go to thunder. You know Oi've got two 
foine pigs. 

(^Laughter.) 

Census Taker {closing book, grabbing hat). I'm through 
with this job. I'm going right up to ihe office to hand in my 
resignation. I didn't know there were so many blamed idiots 
in the world. I've spent two solid hours with this bunch, and 
I don't know any more than when I began. Stay here and 
cackle all night if you want to. {Rushes out.') 



CURTAIN 



By the Author of ^^Mr. Bob" 

THE NEW^CMJSADe" " 

A Comedy in Two Acts 
By Rachel Baker Gale 
Twelve females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two interiors. Plays one 
hour and thirty minutes. A very amusing satire of the servant girl ques- 
tion, brimful of telling incidents and effective lines. All the parts are 
good and of nearly equal opportunity, and practically play themselves. 
Well rehearsed, it is a sure success and goes with a scream. Irish, negro 
and Swede character parts and a •* tough " girl. Strongly recommended 
for ladies' clubs. Can be played only on payment of a royalty of ^5.00 
to the author. 

Pricey 25 cents 

CHARACTERS 
Miss Morris, nothing if not businesslike. 

Mrs. Cogswell-Brown, who believes in cooperative housekeeping. 
Mrs. Potter- Hewitt, who looks small, but is not. 
Mrs. Raymond, who advocates '* The New Crusaded 
Mrs. Archibald Tracey, in search of a 77iaid and experience. 
Bridgett Mahoney, in search of " an ould gintleman.'' 
Mary Macguire, who likes ''the theyatre in the winter toifne.** 
Augusta Olsen, who comes from "Svedetifor big 7nonay'* 
Cassie Clay, who never ''takes suggestions from anybody,*^ 
Jennie Burch, who tiever "has ti77ie for afternoon tea''' 
Matilda Johnson, who likes "slaughtemiobiles a7id a choffer** 
Merry, the settleme7it girl — who s always "on de level.'' 

COATS AND PETTICOATS 

A Comedy in One Act 

By Rachel Baker Gale 
One male (played by a woman), seven females, and if desired, sixteen 
girls for chorus. Costumes, modern ; scene, an interior. Plays forty-five 
minutes. A very lively and amusing piece introducing fancy dresses, 
music and dancing. All the parts of about equal opportunity. Irish 
comedy part and two capital " old maids." Very funny and not difficult. 
Complete with music for the Suffragettes' song and march and the Old 
Maids* song and march. Very strongly recommended. 
Price, 25 cents 

AN EASY MARK 

A Farce in One Act 

By Innis Gardner Osborn 
Five males, two females. Costumes, modern ; scene, an easy interior. 
Plays thirty-five minutes. A side-splitting farce of college life lively enough 
to suit the most exacting demands. Full of funny incident and telling 
lines. Burlesque actor and " tough " young man parts ; the rest " straight" 
and all good. Recommended for schools. Price ^ /j cents. 



New Pkys 



THE DEACON'S SECOND WIFE 

A Comedy in Three Acts 

By Allan Abbott 
Six males, six females. Costumes modern ; scenery, one interior, one 
exterior. Plays two hours and a half. A play of rural life specially 
written for school performance. All the parts are good and of nearly 
equal opportunity, and the piece is full of laughs. Easy to produce ; no awk- 
ward sentimental scenes ; can be strongly recommended for high schools. 
Price, 25 cents 
CHARACTERS 
(^As originally pi oduced under the title of **Back to Nature^"* at The 
Horace Mann School, New York, by the Senior Class of igog^ 
for the benefit of The Athletic Field.) 
(In order of their first entrance) 
Malvina Fitz, the Deacon's "first wife.** 
Deacon Barachias Fitz, a bigamist in spite of himself, 
Milton George Washington Fitz, a good specimen of Young 

America, 
Nancy Melissa Fitz, his sister — a close second, 
Mrs. Brown, who likes to Uend to things. 
Kate Rollins, the Deacon's " second wife.** 
John D. Bullock, a captain of industry. 
Mrs. Bullock, his boss. 
Dorothy Bullock, an up-to-date society girl. 
Hartley Bullock, author of "Why Boys Leave the Farm.^* 
Earnest Rench, about everything there is. 
Philip Gamboge, professional painter and amateur speculator, 

LOOKING FOR MORE 

A Farce in One Act 

By Clarence Mansfield Lindsay 
Four males, two females. Costumes modern; scene, an interior. Plays 
thirty minutes. A very easy and lively farce that can be recommended for 
performance by young people. The parts are very evenly divided in op- 
portunity and effective without being in the least difficult. 
Price, 15 cefits 

WHAT HAPPENED 

A Sketch in One Act 

Two female characters. Costumes modern ; scenery unimportant. Plays 
ten minutes. A very slight but very funny skit, suitable for a programme 
or for a drawing-room performance without the least preparation in the 
way of properties. A sure success if played rapidly. 
Price, i^ cents 



New Plays 



THE VILLAGE SCHOOL MA'AM 

A Play in Three Acts 

By Arthur Lewis Tubbs 

Author of " Valley Faring " Willowdale," " T/ie Country Minister^* 
" The Penalty of Pride ^^ "Miss Buzby^s BoarderSy" etc. 

Six males, five females. Co&tumes modern ; scenes an interior and an 
exterior, or can be played in two interiors. Plays two hours or more. 
An excellent comedy-drama, combining a strongly sympathetic dramatic 
interest with an miusual abundance of genuine and unforced comedy. 
The parts are unusually equal in point of interest and opportunity, are 
genuine types of rural character, truly and vigorously drawn and easily 
actable. No dialect parts, but plenty of variety in the comedy roles and 
lots of amusing incident. An exceptionally entertaining piece, full of move- 
ment and action, and without a dull moment. Can be strongly recommended. 
Price 2^ cents 

CHARACTERS 

Richard Elliot, storekeeper and postmaster, 

James B. Graham, a commercial traveller. 

Rev. Mr. Flick, the village parson. 

HoSEA Clegg, who belongs to the G. A. R. 

Sam Alcott, who has a more than better half. 

Tad, just a boy, 

Sylvia Lennox, the village school-ma^ am. 

Ida May Alcott, who has had advantages. 

Mrs. Alcott, her proud mamma — so^neivhat forgetful, 

Elvira Pratt, a dressmaker. 

POSIE, who was born tired. 

SYNOPSIS 

Act I. — In front of the store and post-office on a morning in August. 

Act II. — Same as Act I, the middle of the same afternoon. If more 
convenient, these two acts may be played as an interior scene with very 
few changes of " business " and dialogue, the stage being set in that case 
as the inside of the store, with counter, post-office boxes, etc. 

Act III. — The home of the Alcotts, three days later. 

THE SUBSTANCE OF AMBITION 

A Drama in One Act 

By Mariejosephine Warren 
Three males, one female. Scene, an interior ; costumes modern. PlayiJ 
twenty minutes. A sketch of compelling dramatic interest by the author 
of "The Elopement of Ellen." A serious piece of high class that can 
*^ "^'v^m mended. Price i^ cents. 



New Pfays 



THE SAWDUST QUEEN 

A Comedy Drama in Three Acts 

jBy Dana J. Stevens 
Author of ''Plain People," ''Old Acre Folk,'' etc. 
Six males, five females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two interiors. 
Plays a full evening. A play of circus life, very picturesque and effective 
and not difficult to get up. Unusually rich in character parts and comedy. 
Soubrette lead; ladies' parts especially strong. Can be recommended. 
Free for amateur performance. Price, 2^ cents. 

CHARACTERS 

Deacon Matthew Sterling. 

Ned Sterling, his son. 

Miss Prudence Prue, ] 

Miss Patricia Prossitt, V three maiden ladies, his cousins. 

Miss Patience Prouty, ) 

Mr. Silas Hankum, his solicitor. 

Adanirum George Wasmngton Hobbes, proprietor of "77te 

Great Forever Circus. ' * 
TONEY O'Hara, an old clown. 

The Herr Professor, acrobat and flying trapeze man. 
HuLDA Schwartz, strojig lady and snake charmer. 
Starlight, the sawdust queen. 

SYNOPSIS 

Act I.— Inside the dressing tent of "The Great Forever 
Circus." 

Act II. — Three days later. The living room in the Sterling 
homestead. 

Act III. — Several days later. Inside the dressing tent again. 



THE SUMMERVILLE BAZAR 

An Entertainment in One Act 

By Frank Towslee 
Twenty-one males, thirty-one females are called for, but this number 
can be greatly reduced by " doubling " or by curtailing the length of the 
entertainment. No scenery required ; costumes, modern. Plays about an 
hour with specialties introduced when called for. This is a humorous 
picture of a church sale, depending upon its characters and incidents, 
which are home thrusts in almost any community, for its success. It ends 
with a sale by auction which may be made a real one, if desired, to actu- 
ally end up a fair. This entertainment will serve as an admirable frame 
for a vaudeville entertainment, being designed to introduce songs, dances 
or recitations at intervals in its action, but may be played wholly without 
them, as a straight entertainment, if it is preferred. Price, 2^ cents. 



On, 



'^Py del to Cat. Diy, 



^^W 10 i9r; 






THP MAfilSTRATI' Farce In Three Acts. Twelve males, four 
lUL iUAUlOlIXAIXi fejj^ales. Costumes, modern; scenery, all 
interior. Plays two hours and a half. 

THE NOTORIOUS MBS. EBBSMITP ^^ZZ,!ZJ^. 

Costumes, modern ; scenery, all interiors PI ys a tull evening. 

THF PROFl IfiATF PlaylnFourAcl-Bi oeven males, five females. 

I^ I* Scenery, three interiors, rather elaborate ; 

costumes, modern. Plays a full evening. 

THE SCHOOLMISTRESS S^It.'J^^rrnr.rr;, 

three interiors. Plays a full evening. 

THE SECOND MRS. TANQUERAY ^^^l^,,^ 

tumes, modern ; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. 

SWFFT I AVFNDFR t;omedy in Three Acts, Seven males, four 
^ females. Scene, a single interior; costumes, 

modern. Plays a full evening. 

THE TIMp^ Comedy in Four Acts. Six males, seven females. 
Scene, a single interior ; costumes, modern. Plays a 
full evening. 

THF WFAKFR SFX ^<^™®<iy ^^ Three Acts. Eight males, eight 
females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two 
interiors. Plays a full evening, 

A WIFF WITHOUT i SMIf F comedy m Three Acts. Five 
A nirC WIIUUUI ASmUJ: n^ales, four females. Costumes, 
modern ; sc«ne, a single interior. Plays a full evening 



Sent prepaid on receipt of price by 

Waltn 1$. 'Bafiet: & Compani? 

1^0. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston^ Massachusetts 



LlBRftRY OF CONGRESS 



'^,^.^.^^. lllllll 

Of Pap_ « ^'^ ''' ''' 



AS YOII I r¥F IT Comedy in Five Acts. Thirteen males, four 
AJ lUU l^llil^ 11 females. Costumes, picturesque; scenery, va- 
ried. Plays a full evening, 

C AMI! IF Jf^"^^'^^^ i" Five Acts. Nine males, five females. Cos- 



tumes, modern ; scenery, varied. Plays a full evening. 

Play in Five Acts. Thirteen males, three females. 
Scenery varied ; costumes, Greek. Plays a full evening. 



IWAffY STUART Tragedy in Five Acts. Thirteen males, four fe- 
ITlAlVl OlUAIll males, and supernumeraries. Costumes, of the 
period , scenery, varied aud elaborate. Plays a full evening. 

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE ;:,X'?,i;Snfa?5: goiri^" 

picturesque ; scenery varied. Plays a full evening. 

DirHFF IFIl P^^y ^'^ ^^^^ Acts. Fifteen males, tAvo females. Scen- 
lylvlll^UlLlI ery elaborate ; costumes of the period. Plays a f\ill 
evening. 

THF I^IVAT S Comedy in Five Acts. Nine males, five females. 
1 lie AI T AL« J Scenery varied ; costumes of the period. Plays a 
full evening. 

SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER ^^^ SZ£°%Ji^i'^ 

tied ; costumes of the period. Plays a lull evening. 

TWELFTH NlfiHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL "i^^JiJ^, 

three females. Costumes, picturesque ; scenery, varied. Plays a 
full evening. 



Sent prepaid on receipt of price by 

Walttt i^> I3a6er & Compani? 

No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts 

S. J. PARKHIIL 4k CO.. PRINTERS, BOSTON. O.S.A. 



